Telling the Parents
by elenniel
Summary: Sif does not want a secret relationship, so Loki must first tell his parents. [Written for Sifki Week 2018]


**TELLING THE PARENTS**

 ** _For Sifki Week 2018, Day 1 - "Young Love"_ **

_**A/N** : I've chosen to portray the Asgardian social approach regarding relationships as being more like Jane Austen's Georgian society instead of giving them more current Western ways. (I know very little about actual Norse society and such; this is pretty much entirely my own extrapolations from what I've seen in the MCU plus my own headcanon.)  
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Loki wondered whether it would be easier if this was all a ruse or a prank.

Sometimes the lies came more easily from him than truth did – a fact that his rambunctious brother and their friends took advantage of whenever it suited them. He was not the toughest or the brawniest, but he was certainly useful when it came to the sneakier verbal aspects of any of their doings. They appreciated that. Or Thor and Fandral did. And Volstagg, to an extent.

But Hogun and Sif were less appreciative of his predisposition to lying. Hogun valued the straight and narrow path more than the others, and Loki sensed that Hogun – a man of few words – much preferred when people used their words for truth. Yet he could not dislike Hogun, in part because Hogun did not dislike him. "I may not like your lies," Hogun had once said, "but sometimes they are useful. And I think you are a good person." It had stunned Loki and he had almost begrudgingly developed a respect and liking for the Vanir.

His respect for Sif, however, was not begrudgingly given. And his liking for Sif was of a completely different nature. So her disapproval of his lying ways meant far more than Hogun's disapproval did. Like Hogun, she acknowledged that he had a skill that came in useful at times. Like Hogun, she seemed to think Loki was more than just mischief-maker and silver-tongued liar. _Un_ like Hogun, Sif was the woman Loki fell in love with. And she did not want a relationship that was hidden.

"I will not have a relationship in the shadows," she had declared. "It will be in the open, or it will not be at all."

"You are Goddess of War. Does not war have any appreciation for secrecy?" he had complained.

"The Goddess of War does appreciate secrecy's place… In _war_. This is not war. And _Sif_ does not appreciate secrecy in such matters."

Thus Loki stood at the door to his parents' private drawing room, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to another. Thor and Fandral would laugh if they knew his inner turmoil at that moment.

Fandral would say, "It is nothing to be afraid of! You're a thousand years old at this point – why should you be afraid?"

Thor would laugh heartily and say, "My brother, afraid of talking? I would have called it impossible!"

Fortunately, neither of them knew what he wanted to do, so he was spared those annoyances.

Loki could feel the questioning gaze of the guard standing a little way down the hall. The man must be wondering what he was doing, staring at the finely-carved golden door.

A part of Loki wanted to turn around and walk away. But he knew that if he didn't go through with it, he would never get what he wished for. So finally, he rapped on the door. The metallic knocks seemed to reverberate ominously around him.

His mother's head lady-in-waiting opened the door. She greeted him with a polite "Your Highness," and stepped aside to let him in.

Odin and Frigga looked up as he entered. Both rose from their chaise longues to welcome him.

"Loki!" said Frigga. "How rare for you to come and see us at this time of day."

"Hello, Mother." He kissed her cheek before turning to Odin and bowing slightly. "Father."

Odin clasped his shoulder. "As your mother said, it is a surprise to see you, my son. But it is not unpleasant! Sit down."

The lady-in-waiting had brought him a chair but Loki remained standing even as his parents resumed their seats.

"Are you not going to sit, Loki?" asked Frigga.

He ignored her question, saying instead, "May I speak with you in private?"

Both Frigga's and Odin's eyebrows rose. They exchanged looks. Frigga motioned to her lady-in-waiting, who curtsied and withdrew.

Odin said, "What is the matter? This sounds very grave."

"It might be."

"'It might be?'" echoed Frigga.

"It depends on how you view it." Loki felt his smoothly-planned sentences beginning to break apart and scatter in his mind. Standing there before his puzzled parents and attempting to put his feelings into words was even more daunting than he'd expected it to be.

"How we view what? Do calm down, Loki." Frigga reached out to take his hand. "Has something terrible happened?"

Loki grasped her hand gratefully and shook his head. "No." He swallowed and drew a deep breath. "Mother, Father… I wish to court the Lady Sif."

"Oh!" said Frigga.

"Lady Sif?" said Odin.

"Yes," said Loki.

And then… Nothing. Loki stood as still as a statue, hardly daring to breathe. The silence stretched interminably, even though at the back of his mind, he knew it was hardly even a minute of silence.

Odin asked, "Does Lady Sif know of your intentions?"

"Yes, Father, she does." That was not a response he had expected. Loki sensed there was more to the question, and compelled himself to continue. "I have spoken to her. She is disposed to accept my suit – if it has your favour."

"You are in earnest, Loki?"

"I am, Mother."

"Well!" Frigga beamed. "Well then, my darling, I will say that this gives me great pleasure indeed! Odin Allfather, what say you?"

Odin stroked his beard and looked thoughtfully at Loki.

"So long as the lady agrees, I have no objections."

It was as though a weight had been lifted off Loki's shoulders, and he could breathe easily again.

"Sif is a noble lady, and a fine warrior. You have chosen well, my son."

Another weight – one he didn't know was there – lifted. An odd, choked feeling came upon Loki. "Thank you, Father. That means a great deal to me."

Frigga said, "Come give your two old parents a good hug. Then you may go and secure your young lady."

… … …

Loki was not able to speak to Sif until the dinner feast for the visiting Vanir ambassadors that evening. At the first chance he got, Loki drew her aside to a quiet spot by a window.

"I have spoken to my parents."

He didn't need to elaborate; Sif understood what he meant. "And?" she said.

"They were pleased. Exceedingly so, in my mother's case." Loki fought the urge to take her hand, to draw her into an embrace. But this was not the place or time for it; they were standing in a very public (though empty) hallway, and she had not definitively said yes – yet. He held his hands at waist level, fingers interlaced loosely. "The Allfather and the Queen do not oppose my courtship of the Lady Sif… If the lady is amenable to it."

The seconds that passed felt like hours. This was a day, he thought, of pauses that felt like eternity.

Then Sif reached for one of his hands. "The lady is most certainly amenable to it."

A sensation of overwhelming happiness surged up in Loki. He raised her hand to his lips. It pleased him to hear the slight gasp she gave when he kissed her hand. At the same time, he began to truly relax for the first time all day. Loki offered Sif his arm.

"Shall we return to the banquet?"

She took his arm, and he felt like he would burst. How was it possible that the smallest gestures made him this happy? He was simply buoyant at that moment.

"Have I told you that I adore you, Sif?"

Sif smiled. "Have I told you that I rather like you, Loki?"

He put on a hurt expression. "You wound me. I declare my intentions to my parents, I proclaim to you my adoration, and you say that you merely _like_ me."

"You'll have to earn my adoration, Loki Odinson," said Sif with mock loftiness. "Though telling your parents did help."

"My lady, I will do my best."

.

.


End file.
